


I will always hold you close

by soft (onlysweeter), squishy (Snowingiron)



Series: In The Stars (dark narry demigod au) [8]
Category: One Direction (Band), Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: (only briefly mentioned though), Families of Choice, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Feelings, Gen, Hugs, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tears, so much hugging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 07:09:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlysweeter/pseuds/soft, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowingiron/pseuds/squishy
Summary: There are seven times Dionysus holds Harry in his arms. The last time he holds him should be the hardest, but it really isn't.





	I will always hold you close

**Author's Note:**

> Just something that bit me last night and we hope you like it! (Title taken from Sleeping at last - Light)

The first time Dionysus holds Harry in his arms is on a stormy night in late September with the trees swaying in the wind and the rain knocking against the windows, begging to be let in so it can unleash the storm inside. It's unexpected when he hears another knock at the actual door, probably something other than rain. He rises out of his chair, expecting an annoying head counsellor or a smelly satyr to ask irrelevant questions, but he is wrong. When he opens the door he is met with a goddess drenched in water, standing on the roofed front porch of The Big House. Her hair sticks to her skin and her make up runs down her face. She's shivering in the cold with only wearing a thin shirt. Her coat is wrapped around something else, something she holds close to her body but tries not to hold close to her heart.

It's a child, Dionysus realises, a sleeping boy with a thick mess of brown curls who can't be older than five. He takes a step back, not to let them inside but out of habit. He doesn't like children very much. But Aphrodite's face turns determined when she approaches him and Dionysus has never seen her like that before. She is a goddess, more powerful than most even though she hides it very well. He knows that she likes to be underestimated, knows about the little game she likes to play with other gods to get what she wants. She had told him all about it over a bottle of wine, centuries ago, when Dionysus wasn't cursed yet by Zeus. She had been radiant and glowing and he had felt deeply for her.

Now she looks like a wet dog.

Well, gods like Ares or Hephaestus might be into that but Dionysus certainly isn't. He doesn't understand at first why she looks like that until he realises that her immortal presence has been removed. Or maybe been hidden? Sometimes gods can do that and hide who they are but it requires a lot of strength and concentration.

"Please," she breathes. "Take him."

Dionysus stares at her. "What?"

"He is my son," she explains, voice cracking beautifully. "I need him to be safe. Please, take him."

He's not thinking clearly when he gives in to the impulse and he can't even blame it on alcohol or anything else. He takes the boy out of her arms and watches how she sobs wetly and fixes the coat around him. She smooths over his curls, brushes them out of his face and strokes his cheeks with both hands before she presses a kiss to his forehead.

"His name is Harry Styles. Please take care of him, Dionysus, he's been through a lot." She steps back quickly then and hugs herself, still quivering like a weak mortal. "But you can't tell him... you can't tell him about me, alright? Not a word."

Dionysus looks at her warily, grip tightening around the boy who feels way too light. "Why? You're just going to leave him here? You won't even claim him?"

"I can't tell you," she croaks. "I can't, but it's important. It's god business and you know how dangerous it can be."

Dionysus huffs and suddenly doesn't feel the slightest bit of pity for her. Disdain and disappointment boils in his stomach, mingling into something close to anger. It's not the first time she abandons a child. He remembers the rage he had felt when he learned what had happened to Priapus. A drunk slip between him and Aphrodite but never a mistake. Not Hera's curse, not even his hideous face could have stopped Dionysus from loving him. But Aphrodite had thought otherwise and had turned her back on Priapus, just like that. And now she is doing the same to another child, just like that.

"I won't tell him anything about you", he promises, fixing her with a glare. "For his sake."

He kicks the door shut with his foot, not caring what happens to her in that state. He had come to feel indifferent about her at some point but now old wounds break open and make him ache with betrayal. Yes, betrayal is what he had felt, then and later, first with Aphrodite and then with Zeus cursing him. Gods can't be trusted, just like their offspring, the glorious heroes. It is different with his own children. It's always different with them.

But now he's standing in the middle of The Big House with a stranger's child in his arms, a half-blood, a soon to be hero, everything Dionysus contemns. He always tells himself that he doesn't care about them, not any of them, _he doesn't_ , and yet...

He sits down in his arm chair and lets the magazine he has been reading before drop to the floor carelessly as he cradles the child in his arms, a frown tugging at his face. When he removes the coat he sees just how thin the boy is and how _filthy_. He smells awful, his hair is tangled together, possibly matted, and there's dirt around his neck and his wrists. He looks sickly and pale but his breathing is steady.

He must've lived on the streets, maybe his mortal mother had died when the monsters found him. It's not unusual and happened to many demigods in Camp Half-Blood but _usually_ they're not this young. For a moment he considers to wake the boy and just put him in one of the cabins but then his face screws up in his sleep and he curls in on himself, into Dionysus' arms and whimpers softly.

He is pathetic, really, and Dionysus couldn't care less. He is just a boy, a demigod whose name he'll never allow himself to remember because naming things is dangerous. Names mean attachment, attachments mean that he cares, which he _doesn't_. He only cares about himself and his own children. Well, and drinking, but that's kind of off limits.

The boy whimpers again, a single tear spilling from his eyes because apparently not even in his asleep he can escape the things that have been haunting him. It pulls at Dionysus' heart with sickening violence, makes his fingers twitch with instinct to draw him closer against his chest.

He doesn't. Instead he thumbs the tear away from the child's cheek and whispers into the emptiness of the house, "It will be alright, Harry."

*

The second time he holds Harry is only a few days later and Dionysus is already done. Of course the boy had been a bit agitated when he woke in a strange house with strange people. He didn't talk for a whole day, hiding away under one of the tables, refusing to come out. That changed only two days later and now Harry is breaking bowls, tearing down curtains and yelling at them whenever they want him to do something. Chiron had backed out of this mess fairly quickly, not schooled enough to deal with children. He only knows how to train _heroes_ and Dionysus hates him for leaving him alone with this messy boy. 

Dionysus had been able to make him bathe but only under the condition that he could do it alone. Ten minutes later the boy had raced from the bathroom naked (but clean) to go hide somewhere again and for once Dionysus had used his godly power to stop him and force him into some clothes. Only his hair was still a disaster and impossible to fix. Which lead Dionysus into the situation he is in right now:

Harry refuses to let the dryad cut his hair and sits on the chair with his arms folded over his chest, bottom lip sticking out to emphasise his unwillingness. He doesn't care that they're immortal, he doesn't care that it must be done, he just. doesn't. care.

The dryad looks at Dionysus helplessly, scissors pressed against her chest like she's scared of the boy. He rolls his eyes and then crosses his arms in a mirror gesture of Harry's.

"We'll just chop it off and then you'll be done. I don't understand why you're making a big deal out of this. I know you probably like your pretty hair but it's not pretty like that."

" _Your_ hair isn't pretty," Harry mutters, green eyes like venom when he looks up at Dionysus.

The god snorts, dropping his arms with a shake of his head. He definitely likes this version better than the scared little thing he was before.

"Um, we can just," the dryad suddenly takes a bold step forward, reaching out for a curl on Harry's head, "start here and--"

That's as far as she gets because suddenly an ear-piercing scream rips through the house, making even the god jump in shock. Harry wrenches himself from the chair and falls into the table where he grabs at the table cloth to crawl away from her but he's clumsy, so clumsy and just falls to the floor along with it, making Chiron's favourite flower vase crash into a thousand pieces. 

"Don't" He wails when the Dryad moves closer with a whispered apology. Harry covers his head (no, he protects his hair) and wriggles away with kicking motions against the floor. If he keeps doing that he'll get the shards everywhere. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _I'm sorry_ , I didn't do anything, I _promise_. Please don't, mum--" his words get cut off by a heart-wrenching sob, accompanied by a well of tears spilling from his eyes widened in terror.

Dionysus knows that look, he has seen it in the faces of many demigods, most of them returning from a quest that made them realise that they're not children anymore, that they never have been. It's the realisation that the world is full of monsters out there to hunt them and kill them. It's the absolute fear of dying. His own realisation is that Harry's mother has not been killed by monsters, but rather that his mother might be the monster Harry is most afraid of. 

"Get out," he tells the dryad, snapping his fingers in the direction of the door.

She obliges quickly, leaving the scissors on another table by the window before she slips out of the room. Dionysus stays right where he is, looking down at the shivering boy who rocks back and forth, apologising for so many things that don't make sense to the god and seem like more crimes than a single five year old kid could ever commit. His heart sinks and tightens in his chest at the sight of Harry crying out his pain that runs like a faucet, snot dripping from his nose as his eyes become more and more dull, like he's starting to pull away from himself and his body, dropping into a space that is hard to come back from.

Dionysus also realises that he can't turn away from this (though he'll never admit that he doesn't _want_ to anyway), so he ignores the broken pieces of the vase and picks up the pieces of Harry instead, kneeling before him with two outstretched hands, palms facing up. The boy doesn't see him at first, it's more like he looks right through him, the image of his mother probably all he can see right now. Dionysus waits patiently, even though the sounds are cutting into his skin with every moment that passes. But it's worth it, when Harry's eyes slowly focus on him, his wails trickling down to ugly sobs instead. He sniffles miserably and then his gaze drops to Dionysus' hands, confused.

He doesn't tell Harry anything because what could he possibly say to make him feel better? There's nothing to fix this with and he's not a god who makes people heal. But he still offers this and lets his hands drift a little apart, opening his arms. Harry understands then and cries a little harder, squeezing his eyes shut to rub the back of his hands over them. With his eyes still closed he launches himself into Dionysus' arms, quivering like he did when he hid under the table. But this time he can hold on to something other than himself and his nails are sharp when they dig into Dionysus' arms, making the god bite his bottom lip. He is strong for a demigod, for a son of Aphrodite, but he won't let go. It's too late for that.

They _do_ cut his hair eventually, with the Dryad, Chiron and a satyr present. Harry lets them do it but his eyes never leave Dionysus, holding on in a different way now.

*

The third time he holds Harry is two years later when the boy is seven years old and Chiron decides it's finally time to put him into the Hermes cabin until he is claimed. Dionysus thinks Harry is still too young for that but he doesn't fight Chiron's decision. It will be nice to have some peace and quiet again after two years.

Harry says he doesn't care anyway and collects the few belongings he has gathered over the past few years before he goes to follow the satyr. Dionysus doesn't know why but he stops Harry at the doorway, studying the boy's stern expression with a frown.

"You'll still be in camp, you're just moving rooms."

Harry shrugs and ruffles his own curls that have grown quite a lot since the day they cut it. They're beautiful now, all glossy and smooth but he still doesn't let anyone touch them. Anyone but Dionysus.

"I told you I don't care."

"Then why do you look like a sad potato?" Dionysus asks.

Harry blinks up at him and suddenly bursts into a giggle, covering his mouth with both hands, dropping his bag in the process. Now it's Dionysus' turn to be confused but soon Harry stops laughing, only keeping his cheeky grin.

"Sad potato," he sniggers and picks up his bag again. "You're silly, Mr. Dad."

They both freeze at the same time. Harry's grin vanishes and Dionysus' eyes widen a little, not really knowing what to do with that. It was obviously an accident but it still throws him off, especially since Harry looks so mortified. He quickly recovers though, plastering on a fake smile that usually is reserved for Chiron whenever he asks things like 'how are you feeling my boy?' or 'Do you want to talk about it?'.

"I'll go," Harry says and brushes past Dionysus, only to halt again on the porch. "I'll be claimed soon, right?"

Dionysus nods. "That's the general idea."

Harry bites his lip and throws a look over his shoulder where the satyr is still waiting impatiently, tapping his hoof on the ground. But then he comes bouncing back with huge steps and Dionysus opens his arms before he actually knows what Harry is doing. It's a firm and a quite long hug, even though it's not as long as the others before. But this time Harry is neither asleep nor terrified and he clings to Dionysus' back anyway, taking a deep breath.

"It's Poseidon," Harry whispers into his ear, sounding so childishly sure. "I know it's him."

Dionysus tightens the embrace and nods, because that's what he would wish for him, a good parent, anyone but Aphrodite. But he promised her not to tell Harry the truth so he can't spare him the pain that comes along with his hope. Still, something has changed between them in the last few minutes, the word _Dad_ still hanging heavily in the air and usually Dionysus is not much into change but...

"Maybe," Dionysus says, pulling away quickly. "At least someone else will have to deal with you now, Howard."

Harry just chuckles at the wrong name before he darts off again, finally leaving the house and Dionysus behind, off to become a true demigod, a hero.

Dionysus hates it. But he lets him go anyway.

*

(He doesn't miss the boy. Doesn't miss tucking him in. Doesn't miss how he has become the spot Harry likes to hide behind. Doesn't miss sharing meals at the same table in the Pavilion. Certainly doesn't miss the night terrors. The boy isn't his son after all... but somehow holding him feels the same as holding Castor and Pollux, the twins, his sons by blood. He wonders what that means.)

*

The fourth time he holds Harry is much, much later. Fifteen years to be exact. He had thought it would be easy to let the boy go on his first quest but it really isn't. He hovers by the trees, a thousand excuses for why he's here already crafted with his mind. 

"Aw, you didn't have to see me off," Harry says with a pleased grin. He shines brightly and Dionysus knows the reason for that is standing right next to him, busying himself with a loose thread on his jacket, pretending that he isn't listening.

"And I haven't," Dionysus declares and moves his eyes over the waiting van before they flicker back to Harry, who knows he's lying but doesn't call him out on it, which makes Dionysus utter those one words he has been trying to hold back. "I'm here to warn you not to come back dead." 

Harry's smile loses its exaggerated happiness and becomes more genuine. "Words of encouragement that never fail to comfort me. Don't I even get a hug?" 

"Hadley please," Dionysus sighs dismissively. "Quests of utmost importance, the impending doom of the whole world resting on four frail pairs of shoulders finding a fifth pair? No time at all for emotional displays." 

He can't hold Harry now because he might not let go and tell him not to go on this quest. Not because he cares, of course he doesn't. Still, Harry's death would be a great inconvenience. He kind of likes their daily, not at all planned, and utterly coincidental meetings by the lake where they talk about things that officially mean nothing to either of them.

"But there's time enough to come and tell me that yourself." Harry raises an eyebrow. 

"Of course not," Dionysus says and promptly forgets about all his well developed excuses, instead catching sight of something in the distance. "I was on my way to the strawberry fields and we just happened to cross paths by mildly happy coincidence." 

He catches Harry biting at his lip. "I'll miss you too, Mr. Dad." 

"Largely annoying coincidence," he reminds Harry. "Goodbye."

He does go to the strawberry fields but quickly remembers that it's winter and that there are no strawberries to harvest. He is embarrassed by his pathetic excuse now and without doubt Harry has figured that out, too. He could make them grow himself, it's in his power after all, but he doesn't feel like it. He sighs to himself and slumps down into a pile of snow, not bothered by the cold. He is a god, there isn't much that bothers him.

"Dad?"

Pollux appears next to him with a red nose and his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

"Pollux," he says and pats the snow beside him.

"No thanks... it's cold. Chiron says he's looking for you."

"He's always looking for me."

"Why are you sitting here then? Did you see Harry off?"

But Dionysus stays silent and toes at the snow instead. He remembers how angry he had been with Harry when he caught him kissing Pollux. Well he didn't actually get to do it because Dionysus had yelled at him, but still... It was hard to see Harry turn into a manipulative child who tried to get his way by playing people. Even harder when he'd started to break hearts. He was so much like Aphrodite without even knowing it. Few individuals know about her uglier side and it had pained Dionysus to see it blossom in Harry's heart like a disease. The only thing that had appeased him in a way was the fact that Harry wasn't in it for the power, like Aphrodite. No, he was in it for the pain... Not just the pain he inflicted on others but also the pain of torturing himself. 

There is nothing Dionysus could've done about it though. He doesn't fix things. He doesn't fix people. And then Niall had showed up, a boy Dionysus hadn't really noticed before. But he had managed to handle Harry in a way not even the god could and now Harry has turned into somewhat of a decent person, demigod, son... So maybe that's just it, the simple truth Dionysus cannot hide from. 

That boy is his son. 

Pollux smiles at him knowingly, which makes him scowl in return. No need to get all sappy, right? But then Harry comes home with bruises on his face (from a battle) and his neck (not from a battle), hand holding on to Niall's much harder and firmer than before. He looks happy, open, raw, vulnerable and Dionysus feels the same in his own heart. Yet they are still the same people and the light banter is all they have to not crumble and give in to what has been there for years. Harry is back now but what will happen next time?

"I suppose that's what you are now. A hero." Heroes don't belong to themselves, they belong to the gods and are nothing but pawns in a war that never ends. Who would want that for their own child?

Harry's shoulders drop for a moment, smile faltering, before he raises them again like a shrug, all tense and nervous. "Think your hero disposition could make an exception for little old me?" 

"That depends," Dionysus says carefully and squints at him. "Did you bring me anything back?" 

Harry's smile is weak, tired, but more genuine than it has ever been. "Just myself." 

Dionysus drinks in the sight of Harry, his poor little boy who is not a boy anymore, who doesn't hide under tables, doesn't cry and scream at the sight of scissors, who fights like a hero instead. But not like Achilles, not for the fame, just for his friends, the people he has learned to love. Does Harry even realise that?

"Yes, I think that will do," Dionysus says with a solemn voice and just waits.

He has learned since the day he tried to cut Harry's hair that it's best to let him come to him. He would always hold Harry but he knows that Harry doesn't always want to be held. He doesn't have to wait long though because Harry falls into his arms in the blink of an eye, hands holding on in a tight embrace. 

"I missed you, Dad." 

And there it is, the word, simply as that. No Mr. D, no Mr. Dad, just _Dad_. It hits him then, that he has been worried all these years. He never thought he might be the father that Harry wanted since his heart was always aching for Poseidon. Dionysus is no Poseidon, just a minor god who can grow plants, turn people into animals and is somewhat of a good fighter. He certainly isn't the god demigods dream about having as a father. Yet Harry chose him now, over Poseidon, over Aphrodite, over his mortal mother (though the latter hasn't been much of a competition).

Harry is rambling about all of that into Dionysus shoulder and he listens, he listens and holds his boy, his son, savouring the feeling for another long moment before he has to let go again.

*

The fifth time he holds Harry is before he lets him leave for his next quest. Dionysus is upset, even more so than last time because this time it's just them against Zeus and death is more likely than ever. But he understands the importance when he looks into Harry's eyes, when he sees the pain and the worry tearing him apart on the inside. Sometimes it's hard to believe that the same boy who broke hearts like it was a sport is now standing here in front of him, so undisturbed by the prospect of his own death, just so he can rescue the boy he loves. Chose to love. Dionysus doesn't think he has ever seen anything like it and he's so proud of Harry it almost makes him feel sick.

He wants to tell Harry that when he fits himself into Dionysus' arms, wants to tell him how proud he is but also how worried. But he can't, the words get stuck in his throat and when Harry leaves he feels regret, for the first time in centuries. 

*

The sixth time he holds Harry is weeks later, when suddenly a bunch of battered and filthy looking demigods barge in, just kicking open the door of The Big House. They're not alone, they have Niall in their arms and two titans by their side who seem to be in awe of everything around them. Neither Dionysus nor Chiron have time to ask before Harry carries Niall up the stairs into Tess' room. They can hear her yelp and ask something but when they catch up with Harry he's already putting Niall down on the bed, ignoring everything Tess' says, and pressing a long kiss to his forehead.

"Please, get someone from the Apollo cabin to look after him," Harry tells Tess with a squeeze to her hand.

Dionysus supposes that it's the sincere concern in his voice that makes her go without a snarky remark. Harry is a storm, telling people what to do, he even sends _Chiron_ on an errand who is surprisingly cooperative.

"Harry, you need to sit down," the Zeus kid says at some point with a hand on Harry's shoulder.

But he shrugs it off with a tight smile, rubbing over the dirt on his cheek. "I'm fine. Just take Louis and Zayn and get some rest, yeah? I'll take care of everything else."

"Harry—"

"Go, Liam. You've all been through hell, literally. And Louis looks like he's about to faint, so please go to the Apollo Cabin and let them take care of you."

"But what about you?" Liam hisses and keeps a firm grip on Harry's shoulder when he tries to move away. "Come with us, okay? I'm sure everyone else will handle it."

Harry gives a chuckle. "Come on, Liam. You know that I'm the only one who can handle this. Just go, okay? I'll rest later, I promise."

It's probably the exhaustion that makes Liam give in, or the faces of his boyfriends who are clearly still in pain. It's all been a bit of a mayhem and when finally everything is taken care of, Harry sits Helios on the bed next to Niall, making him promise to keep an eye on the demigod.

Helios nods dutifully, something that throws Dionysus off a little but he can't be bothered right now because Harry is stumbling past him through the door, smiling at everyone who walks by and then Dionysus finally gets a hold of his wrist. Harry turns around with a frown but Dionysus is already dragging him to the bathroom where he closes the door behind them and takes a good look at the dried blood on Harry's arms. He has been injured but doesn't even seem to feel the pain anymore. And it's not just his own blood, his arms are stained with dark titan blood, as if he has reached into a corpse and now it flakes from his skin like dirt. Oddly enough, it reminds Dionysus of the night Aphrodite brought him here.

"I'm alright," Harry says automatically but when Dionysus looks up at him he's already shaking, like he's holding back the tears.

So he keeps looking at his son, holding his wrists gently until the first tears drip from his eyes, a sob ripping from his throat involuntary, like vomit. He starts to whimper and wail but it's not in terror, not even in pain, it's just the realisation that he's not dead, the relief of having his boyfriend back and all the bottled up feelings from the past few weeks. He crumbles like a wall and sinks to the floor with a loud thud. Dionysus is right there with him, draping his arms gently around Harry because there's really nothing else he can do.

Harry and his friends must've seen things down there. Tartarus is not made to be looked at by mortal eyes... and if the past few minutes have been any indications then Harry has played the part of the strong leader for far too long already. It makes Dionysus' heart clench, knowing that his son has been in so much pain, so he hugs him tighter and rocks him in his arms, something he has only done once before, that very first time, when Harry was asleep. It is ridiculous, Harry is not five years old anymore, and to the gods family dynamics are different anyway. Gods have never just been children, not even right after their birth and he's quite happy about that. But somehow with his mortal children it's the opposite. He doesn't want them to grow up.

"I'm... I-- Dad- I can't--" Harry tries to start sentences over and over again but is always interrupted by a new sob, another hiccup, so Dionysus makes a soothing noise and strokes Harry's now much shorter hair.

"You don't have to talk," he tells Harry quietly. "But I'm very, very proud of you. And I'm glad you're alive."

It makes Harry cry so much harder and he burrows himself deeper into Dionysus' arms, the only safe place he knows right now. All the filth and dirt rubs into the god's shirt but he couldn't care less. His son is home.

*

The last time Dionysus holds Harry is the day Zeus dies. You see, there is a reason why he counts. Most of his children are mortal and for a god it's a pathetically small amount of time to spend with them. He embraced Castor ten times before he died. Ten times he remembers fondly but they're nothing more than that, just memories. For him it's a coping mechanism, a reminder that he can't get too attached. 

But now Harry is standing in front of him, glowing red with a presence that fills the entire room, beautifully immortal but still so human in his words and feelings. He has never seen Harry so content, so happy and Dionysus wants to burst with pride because everything he did he didn't do for the gods. He did it for his family, which only extends more and more because Harry begins to realise how big his own heart is and how much room there is. Dionysus saw him fight while he was chained to his own throne, by his own father, because he'd rather take a stand for his son than for the gods. He still feels the exhaustion from it and knows how reluctant Harry is to hug him, still that worried boy, asking stupid questions.

"This is my home. Where else would I be?"

And Harry stumbles right into Dionysus arms, almost choking him with his newfound strength. But Dionysus kind of likes it, how the force of Harry's love overwhelms him and makes him sway on the spot. Harry is his son and he loves him back the same, if not more. There's no need to deny it. 

Because this is actually not the last time he holds Harry, not at all. It's just that he can finally stop counting.

**Author's Note:**

> Are you tired of the family of choice stuff and the fluffy feelings??? We hope not...  
> And we appreciate all the feedback! <3


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